Less Is More
by llamastuff
Summary: Hey have you heard about that sexy art teacher this year! Well, It's Brittany's senior year in high school, and it's the first and only year she can take Art 101. Read and see what happens when she gets a new Art Teacher, named Ms. Santana Lopez. Brittany wonders why Ms. Lopez makes her "uneasy" and why she feels a connection somewhere! ;)
1. Chapter 1

Less Is More

**Chapter 1: Actually **

Brittany's POV

I sit in art class waiting anxiously for Ms. Nash to come in and start class. This is my first day of my senior year and this is my last class. I'm so sad that I had to wait till senior year to take art. But since it has finally come, I am so excited. I love art. I like working on things everyday until it is a finished product. Seeing as how you can go from something so empty and blank to something filled up, meaningful, and artistic has always blown my mind.

"Hey Britt, did you hear about Ms. Nash?" My friend, Sugar tells me from across the room.\

I turn my head to look back at her. "What about Ms. Nash?" I ask.

"She moved to Boston because her husband got a new job there," Sugar says.

"Aww that sucks. That means we're gonna have a whole new teacher. They're probably going to be mean and ugly, like that new teacher we have in Economics," I say to Sugar. She usually laughs when I talk about our new Economics teacher. I don't know why she isn't laughing right now.

It looks as if she is looking past me. I follow her line of sight.

"What?" I say and then turn around.

Standing right in front of my desk is a woman about 23 or 24, with long black hair and a bang, tanned skin, mustard yellow dress shirt and navy blue tight waisted skirt that flared out at the ends that stopped below her thighs, nude stockings, and cute baby doll shoes. I look her up and down. Then, I take the biggest gulp of my life.

"You must be Brittany," She looks down a paper that has my ID card on it. "Hi, I'm Ms. Santana Lopez. I'm the new mean and ugly art teacher." She reaches out her arm and holds out her hand to me. I look up at it and I can feel myself turning red.

"You can shake my hand. I promise the ugliness and meanness won't rub off on you," She chuckles at me and extends her arm out a little more. I finally lift my own hand and shake it vigorously.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. You are totally not mean and definitely, definitely not ugly. I mean... I'm sorry... Oh gosh. Please don't fail me."

"If you keep shaking my hand I won't be able to use it, Brittany," the class laughs, "For class."

"Oh, sorry about that," I say and release her hand. I feel my cheeks get red and hot. Ms. Lopez tells the class to take out a piece of paper to write down why we like art. I could have written a list that goes on for days, but I decided against it. I look through my backpack and get out a piece of paper. Once I set it on my desk, I see that Ms. Lopez made her way to the front of her desk.

"Alright class, just take your time, and just let me know why art matters to you. I want to know what fascinates you, what you don't like, and even something beautiful about art you have seen. It can be anything you want. Take about ten minutes." After she gave us the green light, I started scribbling things down on my paper because I have a lot of making up to do. As I write the words flow. There's something about art that makes everything meaningful and great to look at and decipher. I don't really know much about Ms. Lopez, but if she is anything like Ms. Nash then I will be fine.

* * *

"Alright class put down your pencils, pens, or crayons. I would like to hear from some of you," Ms. Lopez says to us.

I raise my hand because I've got some redeeming to do.

"Yes Brittany." She calls on me. I give her a smile and I lift up my paper to begin reading.

"Before you start I would like you to not read from the paper. I want you to just let your words flow naturally like in a conversation." She instructs me. I get up from my seat and I stand in front of the room. I begin to speak.

"Art is powerful. It's love. It's hate. It's everything in the middle. Everything is art, and I think that's what makes us imperfect. It matters to me because I know I'm not perfect but to create a piece of art that makes me feel perfect and to see someone else's perspective of beauty makes everything alright. A simple line is art. Even the most complex organ, the heart, is art. What fascinates me is how a piece of work can stir up so many emotions. I want to be able to do just that." I look at Ms. Lopez for her approval to go sit back down. I make my way back to my desk and I look at her again.

"Thank you Brittany. That was exactly what I was asking for. You took the words right out of my mouth. I can already tell that we're going to do some great pieces of art." Ms. Lopez says to me, and she smiles. I take a deep breath and I feel so much better.

"Now I'm gonna open up for questions. Please ask me everything and anything you want because this is the only time you'll actually get an answer from me." She says.

I see a few of my friends raising their hands, and Ms. Lopez looks like she has someone in mind. She looks down at her paper. "Noah." She says.

"Oh baby, you can call me Puck." Noah Puckerman says.

"Actually, I'm gonna call you Noah. Now, what is your question?"

He smirks and asks, "Gotta boyfriend?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Ms. Lopez answer simply.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He says.

"You, Noah, will never know. Oh and I forgot to tell you that you get one question each," she raises one finger in the air.

After that situation, other classmates of mine ask her the usual questions: What college and what high school did she attend. One guy even asked: Do you eat brownies? After a while I finally came up with my one and only question.

"How old are you?" I ask.

Ms. Lopez raises an eyebrow and answers with confidence, "20".

Then, she continues to call on the other students that have questions. But, I think to myself how can she be 20 and teach senior high school students. Did anyone else hear that? I want to raise my hand again and ask her how, but we only get one question each.

"Okay, well that ends my moment of questioning. What Joe is passing out is my syllabus. As you can see there is a number at the top of the paper along with my email for all questions, statements, or comments you may have." Ms. Lopez says in her seat.

"Oh yeah, got her number, didn't even have to try." Puckerman says out loud and high-fives his friend.

"Actually Noah, that's my Google number. Any stupid or inappropriate messages will not a get a response back." Ms. Lopez says with a harsh tone before smiling at us. "Got it?" She asks us and I swear she looked me straight in the eye. I wonder why. It's too late to even wonder because the bell rings.


	2. Chapter 2

I hear the bell ring, and I grab all of my stuff in a hurry, so that I wouldn't be late to feed Lord Tubbington, my cat. Last time I was late he stole all of my shoe laces. So, once I grab everything I didn't look back. I raced to my locker. I open it and collect all of my notebooks for all of my classes, so that I could do my homework. I grab every book except my Creative Writing notebook. I think back to when I last had it. "Crap, I must have forgotten it in Art class. I've gotta go back now." I put everything in my backpack and I head back to the art class.

I spot it in my view and I figure I should just run in, get it, and come back out. I notice the lights off and it looks a little empty. I walk in and open my mouth to call to Ms. Lopez to see if she is still here. All I see is a round, full, juicy foreign object attached to a pair of legs. Ms. Lopez turns her head to face me and I realize that object is my art teacher's _oh so lovely ass_.

She slowly straightens her body and turns around completely "Oh, hello Brittany. Did you need something?" It didn't register that she was talking to me. "Hello? Brittany?"

"Oh…Um… I, uh, l-left my no-note-notebook in h-here," I stutter. She smiles at me. I know she can see the blush covering my face and neck.

"It's on my desk, I didn't check the name inside. I was just picking up the trash the class left," I finally notice the crumpled pieces of paper in her hands. "Though I did see one of the poems; it was quite incredible."

Oh, crap she read my poetry. No one is supposed to see that. Now I see why Quinn told me to get a diary. _But Lord Tubbington keeps stealing it._ "Th-thank you." I move towards her desk to retrieve my notebook. I tripped over my own feet in the process and catch my fall by placing my hands on her desk.

I hear the cutest giggle ever. I turn my tomato red face to see my art teacher covering her face with one hand. "I'm sorry, but you are the first of my students to actually freak out over me."

"M-me? Freak out over y-you? I couldn't, I sh-shouldn't. I-I'm not," I say and clench my notebook to my chest. I take a step back from her desk and look at her face.

"Then, why are you so nervous? Your face, it's very, very red. I only wonder why?" She says and shortens the distance between us by taking a step toward me.

"Allergies?" That's all I say and take another step back.

"It's okay Brittany. I'm only messing with you. You can relax this isn't a murder trial sweetie." She finally gets closer to me and I let out the breath that I didn't know I was holding till now.

"W-well then, I will be going now. See you tomorrow M-m-m," I drop my arms in frustration, "Ms. Lopez."

"See you later Brittany. By the way, good work today. You are definitely going to be one of my favorites. Oh and I hope your 'allergies' don't give you much of a hard season." She smirks at me. I can't tell if it was a sexy one, a wicked one, or an insider joke one. Whichever one it was, it made my _allergies_ even worse. Once I made it out of her classroom I start running toward the exit and run home.

* * *

I walk through my house and race to the kitchen. I see Tubbs by the doorway. "So sorry Tubbs, I forgot my notebook in a class. I had to go all the way back. Give me one sec." I go to the cabinet and get out the chocolate pudding. That's his favorite. I place about five cups on the floor by his play house. He walks over to the cups and starts eating. I rub and scratch behind his ears, and he looks happy. "Alright Tubbs, you keep eating, I got to go do my homework." I walk upstairs and take out my class homework. I pull out my Art assignment. I have to draw my name. As I start drawing, I get the thinking that this assignment is kind of confusing. Though, Ms. Lopez is pretty hot. She can't possibly be 20 years old. I mean seriously, she has the brains, beauty, and let me not forget that foreign object I saw earlier today. Dat ass, oh God.

**MEOW**

"Tubbs don't scare me like that. Why are you wearing your biker jacket? You know you are not allowed outside this week." Tubbs gives me an odd look. "Oh you will not give me that look. I found your stash of cat porn. I will not allow that in my house."

**MEOW MEOW **

"Go and take off your biker jacket. I have homework to attend to." With that Lord Tubbington leaves. I return my attention back to my homework. I start with the B first. When I went to make the loops, it reminded me of how round Ms. Lopez's ass is. Oh fuck I just put _B-dat ass_. I erase it as best as I could and continued my name.

Once I was finished I moved on to my next homework, Creative Writing. Our assignment is to write six lined poem about one emotion. I tap my pen against my chin. I think for a minute or two about the emotion I will write about. After time has passed, I finally come up with one. _Confusion. _

_Questions flood my mind day and night. _

_What do I want? What should feel normal? Bounce off the walls of my skull._

_I dream dreams of true happiness, blissful romance, and honestly,_

_Honesty with myself is almost nonexistent._

_Oh how I wish I could turn my dreams into realities._

_But wait, doesn't everybody want to, I mean isn't it inevitable?_

I close my notebook, as soon as I finish it. I know if I read it, I'll second-guess myself. I look at the clock on my bedside table, to see it's already 10:00 pm.

I go to sleep and let the confusion take over my dream.


End file.
